


Caught in crossfire meant for you

by ryandarke



Category: Queen of the South (TV)
Genre: F/M, just a walk in jeresa park, picking up at 413
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2020-10-20 02:04:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20667506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryandarke/pseuds/ryandarke
Summary: Jeresa focused drabble following on from the season finale





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There was so, so little to work with from Season 4 and I have swung to and fro on whether the 'they' in 'they're coming for you' are Russian or something closer to home. I don't think it matters too much who it is, for my purposes here. Only about, oh, 38 weeks left till we find out what's actually in store... (stares at the long bleak hiatus wilderness stretching way off into the distance). I've been sitting on this for a few days now, deliberating about posting - it's always an angst-fest - and it's getting in the way of work, so it needs to go. I do have the plans for what comes next, which will be jeresa driven, not plot driven, coz that's beyond my capabilities and self-indulgence is what this is all about! One last thing before I post (hopefully): you have to understand that any medical knowledge I have comes from watching ER and a bit of Google searching - that's it, so go easy on me on that score. But if you're up for a wallow in a bit of jeresa angst, be my guest and walk this way...

‘They’re coming for you.’

James currently had limited capacity to juggle the priorities of any given moment. First priority completed – Teresa knew there was imminent danger, though he knew her well enough to know that communicating that danger and getting her to react to it in the way he wanted were two very different things. But his new immediate priority was to master the waves of nausea washing over him and to resist the accompanying seductive siren calls of unconsciousness. Teresa assimilated the situation fast. Whoever was coming couldn’t be too far away, judging by the state of James, and she had to assume the worst, that they would know where to find her. They needed to get out of here fast but James needed a doctor, probably more, every bit as quickly.

‘Pote, bring the car round,’ she shouted. ‘George, get down here now.’ She turned her attention to James, kneeling beside him with her arm holding onto him as he swayed unsteadily. She felt him recover but didn't let go. ‘Tell me what to do.’

‘You need to get away from here.’

‘I’m on that. Tell me what to do with you. You’re the one with military first aid training.’

‘Can you get out of the country, just while things cool off?’

‘James, I’ll sort that but I’m not leaving you here like this so you need to tell me what to do,’ she said, exasperated with him.

‘Help me get this off then check the back for an exit wound,’ he said trying to shrug his jacket off his shoulders.

George joined them and helped with stripping James’ jacket down one arm, then the other as James switched the hand clutching the wound. Teresa and George looked down, and taking in the pristine white T-shirt, their gazes met in concern above James’ back.

‘There’s nothing there, is there?’ It was more of a statement than a question from James, reading the lack of response from Teresa.

‘No.’

‘OK. You need to get away from here,’ he repeated. ‘Get rid of my car. Do you have a place you can drop me, so I’m not found at your haulage company?’

‘I can find one.’

‘OK,’ he said, as Pote screeched to a halt by them. Pote jumped out to help George get James into the back seat. George shouted instructions to a nearby driver to leave the car in the parking lot of a large mall. ‘Don’t forget my jacket, Teresa,’ James said with as much of a smile as he could muster, hoping that being able to show he wasn’t so badly hurt after all would help convince her to leave him.

Teresa got in with him, manoeuvring herself under James’ head and shoulders to be able to fit. With Pote and George back in the car, they screamed away from the depot. Teresa pulled out her phone and called Marcel.

‘George, here, put it on speaker.’

‘Can you put some pressure on this, Teresa?’ asked James. Teresa lent over and put her hands on his. She could feel warm blood seeping through his fingers.

Marcel answered. ‘Teresa. What’s up?’

‘I need your help, Marcel. I need a doctor who can deal with a gunshot wound. Where do we go?’

Teresa pulled off her T-shirt, folded it quickly and used it to apply more pressure to the wound. James grunted in pain but put his bloodied hands over the top of Teresa’s to increase the pressure.

‘Are you alright Teresa?’ Marcel sounded concerned.

‘I’m fine, it’s one of my men. It’s important.’

Marcel gave them an address. ‘I’ll call ahead, let him know you’re coming. Do you need anything else?’

‘Maybe. How far away are you from there?’

‘About 10 minutes. Want me to meet you there?’

‘If you could, I’d really appreciate that, Marcel.’

Pote drove as fast as he could, without attracting the wrong kind of attention. Teresa looked over James. They seemed to have staunched the bleeding out but she knew enough to know that was only part of the story. They had no idea of the bleeding within. Teresa’s mind was in a whirl as she weighed up all the moving parts of this scenario, but even amongst all that, she still had to push away the nagging sense of déjà vu about the current scene.

‘Teresa. Listen to me.’ James’ slightly hoarse voice broke her train of thought. ‘You have to leave me wherever it is you’re taking me. I don’t have time to explain anything but you have to trust me on this.’

‘I won’t just leave you.’

‘You have to. I want you to. I’ll be ok as long as I know you’re out of harm’s way.’

Pote interrupted at that point. ‘We’re here,’ he said, pulling up sharply outside. George jumped out and rushed inside, coming out with a doctor and a gurney moments later. They manhandled James onto the gurney, prioritising speed over comfort, eliciting a strangled cry of pain followed by a clamping shut of his jaw as James tried to master the agony that wracked his body.

‘How long since he was shot?’ barked the doctor at the congregation of George, Pote and Teresa as they wheeled him inside.

‘Just after 1pm. She says there’s no exit wound.’ replied James, eyes still shut, but still in control of his situation. The doctor looked up at the clock and nodded. Teresa looked down at him, aware both that she was walking around without a top on and that she didn’t care in the slightest.

The nurse cut James’ T-shirt off and the doctor gingerly removed the bloodied layers of cloth to reveal the bullet’s entry point. They carefully rolled James onto his side to expose his back. The doctor looked, then peered closely at a discolouration on James’ back, pulling a gloved finger across the skin to pull it tighter, then returned him gently back down.

‘OK, I’m gonna be straight with you here. He needs to get to a hospital. I don’t like where the bullet’s gone in but on the upside, it looks like it might not have been too far away from coming out the other side. But with the facilities I got here, you don’t wanna risk trying to do anything here. I know enough to know that you guys probably don’t want to answer the questions about how he got like this but he needs surgery and time is ticking.’

Marcel arrived just in time to catch that de-brief. The nurse started inserting a cannula into James’ left arm. Marcel pulled Teresa aside.

‘What you gonna do? I mean, who is he, is he worth the risk?’

‘Yes,’ said Teresa unequivocally answering the last question, ignoring the one before it.

Marcel and Teresa continued their conversation.

‘Pote, come here,’ said James quietly, oblivious to the attentions of the nurse as she finished hooking him up to an IV line. Pote turned away from watching Teresa and Marcel and stepped over to look down at James.

‘Hey cabron.’

‘Listen to me, Pote’ said James, scraping together the last of his energy and control. ‘You gotta get her to go. Every minute she’s here, she’s in more danger. Doing business with the Russians is a bad idea, for too many reasons.’

‘Is that who shot you?’

‘Yeah…’ James swallowed down a bitter mixture of extreme anxiety and pain. ‘I know she always wants to stand her ground and fight but you’re not ready for this yet. If you get outta here now, you'll come back smarter. Can you get out of the country?’

‘George has a place…’

‘Don’t tell me. Better I don’t know. Please,’ James implored, holding Pote’s wrist and looking directly at him with pleading in his eyes, his breathing starting to shorten and speed up and sweat starting to appear on his forehead.

Pote looked at James. The more Teresa resisted, the more it took out of James to argue with her, the more time it consumed and time wasn’t on either of their sides. He nodded and turned to George, who’d listened to the exchange and they both moved toward Teresa. Teresa turned at that moment and saw their approach.

‘Teresita, it’s time to go.’

‘I know.’

Marcel pulled the doctor aside and had a hushed conversation with him, to which the doctor nodded in silent assent. Teresa moved to James and dropped down to his level.

‘Listen. I hear what you’re saying and I’m going to go.’ Even amongst the pain, Teresa saw the relief flood across James’ face at that. ‘Marcel’s gonna get you to hospital and take care of this. He knows this city and how it works. But I’m not leaving you behind, OK?’ She smoothed her hand across his dark hair, longer than it had been the last time she’d seen him, and brought her hand round so that her palm gently held his cheek. James couldn’t help but let his head drop and rest against it. Whether out of physical exhaustion, a primeval desire for comfort from pain that was searing every nerve ending or something more complex, he didn’t have energy to decipher.

‘We need to go,’ said the doctor. Teresa nodded, instinctively leaned forward, fleetingly kissed the top of James’ head and left.

Marcel observed the scene and had a much better sense of what this guy was to Teresa, even if he had no idea who he was or where he fitted in to Teresa's set-up. Better for their cover story that he knew nothing. As Teresa left, he saw the peace that settled across the guy’s face, saw his eyes close, his body relax now that he’d got her to go, and Marcel understood a bit further still. Having invested his blood and every ounce of his energy, will and powers of persuasion on Teresa’s survival, the guy could now use what little he had left on himself, though that was clearly of a long-way-secondary importance to him as he slid contentedly into unconsciousness.

Teresa stared out of the window in the back of the SUV, trying to pull everything together. Who was coming for her, how James was involved, was retreating the right thing to do. George made arrangements on the phone, conferring with Pote from time to time. She was still without a top, still didn’t give a damn about it, but it felt a touch incongruous now. As she moved her foot, it brushed against James’ jacket discarded on the floor. Leaning down to pick it up, she noticed his blood on her hand for the first time. ‘He would die for you,’ Pote had said. She picked up his jacket and put it on.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - this is longer than I anticipated when I started

‘Teresa, it’s Marcel. Sorry to ask this but… Are you sure about this guy?’

The setting sun spilled a warm orange glow across the white sand as Teresa looked out from the terrace. Yes, I’m sure. And there again, how can I be, when I haven’t seen him in a year.

‘Why? What’s wrong?’

‘I don’t know, I might be being too suspicious but there was interest in him to start with then it just melted away. Like it wasn’t important anymore. Or like someone was told to let it go. I figured it was unlikely to be the Judge… I don’t know and tell me to mind my own business if it’s you that’s taken care of it but I just wanted to check first before we move him.’

‘Has anyone talked to him?’

‘Not that I’m aware of, but we haven’t got eyes on him 24 hours a day. Mind you, he’s not been in a great shape for polite conversation. Maybe I’m being too sensitive. He’s just another John Doe that no-one knows and no-one’s complaining about.’

‘When do you think he can be safely moved? Both from his point of view and ours?’

‘Tomorrow evening.’

Teresa thought for a moment before declaring ‘Let’s do it. All the arrangements are in place and ready, so let’s go. If you’ve got cover for yourself, then I’ll deal with any problems as and when I come to them. Thank you for this, Marcel. Thanks for everything.’

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

James had been hazily aware of events over the last 24 hours. He wasn’t sure how many days had passed but the pain was strong enough to suggest that it was probably not more than a week. Being told he was being transferred to private care made him wonder who was controlling his life. Devon? Would Devon go to this trouble– and expense? He could have easily left him in hospital and managed the issue of awkward questions of officialdom without inconvenience. Teresa, directly or indirectly? That option wasn’t without its issues for him either.

But here he was, lying in a comfortable bed, wounds being checked by an efficient and professional woman, who sat down next to him when she’d finished.

‘How are you feeling? Honestly?’ she asked gently, looking directly at him with concern in her eyes.

‘Sore. Tired…. Low, actually….’ James was surprised to hear himself admit it aloud to a total stranger.

‘All to be expected. How much are aware of, in terms of what happened?’

‘I know I don’t have a spleen anymore.’

‘Right. Which means you have to be careful of infections, so anything that worries you, spiking temperature, sore throat, wounds start to hurt more or redden or ooze, you call me. How’s the pain on a scale of 1 to 10?’

‘5?’

‘There’s painkillers on the side there.’ She continued to look at him with empathy.

James found himself feeling vulnerable and not wanting her to go. She was the most comfort he’d had in over a year. She came with no complication, no agenda - at least, none that he could discern. Something in his face must have given him away, because she leaned forward, put her hand on his arm and squeezed gently.

‘D’you know who I’m with?’ he asked quietly.

‘Is that a concern? The guy I’ve met is called George. Beard. Twinkly eyes. Questionable taste in shirts. But seemed nice enough?’

‘Yeah, he is,’ James smiled gently at her description, relief coursing through his body.

‘It’s normal to be feeling low as well. You've had a very close call and got lucky but we're talking very small margins, maybe just millimetres different, and you'd be dead. That messes with your head. Although, judging by the look of your body, I’m guessing you already know the drill where GSWs are concerned.’

James didn’t know how to answer that.

‘You’ve been in the military?’

‘Yeah.’ It was true, even if it only partially accounted for the scars.

‘You still using those skills then, I guess? Security. Close protection. In the line of duty. That kind of thing.’

‘Yeah.’ It was kind of true…

‘So this is an occupational hazard. Ever thought of changing your occupation? Office job. Accountant. Car salesman. Tour guide! Tour guide sounds pretty mellow and non-hazardous to me…’ she grinned, warming to her theme.

James smiled. ‘I’ve thought about it a fair bit recently, now that you mention it – the change of occupation bit, not the tour guide!’

‘Well, you’ve got a good couple of weeks or so of taking it easy, so you keep thinking about it. Try and come up with something that offers a somewhat longer life expectancy. Get outside, go down to the beach. It’s a beautiful place you’ve got here. You should be getting up and about a bit anyway, gentle exercise, get the muscles working again. Don’t overdo it but you’re far enough along that you should be up and about a bit. And when you need to rest, rest. But give yourself some time too, will you? Some time for yourself, I mean…’

James swallowed, hating himself for being weak and self-pitying, when he’d seen so much worse in his life. What the hell was wrong with him? He was alive. And safe for now. So get a fucking grip.

‘Call me if you need to, OK? They’re paying me for the deluxe, 24 hour on call service, so you might as well get your money’s worth.’ She let the joviality linger a moment, before she resumed in a slightly more serious tone. ‘All joking aside, I mean it – don’t take any risks with potential infections.’

‘Yeah, I got that. Thank you. Really,’ said James, sincerely grateful for her warmth and caring.

‘No problem,’ she smiled gently. ‘I’ll see you in 2 days, maybe look at taking the stitches out then, unless you call sooner. See if you can come up with a Plan B by then...’ she said, gathering her things together, and leaving him with a wink. ‘Be good!’

James wondered at the generosity of spirit from a woman he’d never met, who’d managed to make him feel a little better, who used her work to make a positive contribution to life. He sighed. What next? Painkillers – he reached carefully for the bottle, shook 3 out, and was downing them when George came in.

‘Baby Chapo. Truly good to have you back in the land of the living.’ George’s words were archetypal George but there was a genuineness, rather than levity, behind them that James didn’t recall ever having experienced from George. ‘How you feeling?’

‘I’m OK, George. Occupational hazard, I guess.’ The cool veneer masking what he was feeling was back in place. ‘Where is this?’

‘Belize. A little bolthole we cooked up some time back. It’s come in useful.’

‘Teresa around?’

‘She went back to the States to sort out some of the shit that got you shot but she’ll be back later on today, she said.’

James’ heart and stomach sank at the prospect of Teresa being in the US, dealing with the shit that got him shot. Right back in the eye of the storm, nothing's changed. Why couldn’t she just stay out of the way of trouble for a bit? George read his thoughts – the mask had slipped there.

‘I know how you feel, Giant Peach. We both love that girl to bits in our different way and it god-damn near kills us having to watch her do it her way. Shit, literally god-damn near killed you this time… sorry. No pun intended, for once.’

James needed out of this conversation, needed it all to be on safer ground.

‘Any chance of something to eat, after I get a shower?’

‘Should you be up? I mean, happy to wait on you, breakfast in bed, service with a smile ‘n all that. You earned it and then some…’

‘It’s fine. It’ll do me good to be up for a bit, moving around. Join you in 5 or 10 minutes?’

‘Sure thing.’

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

James towelled himself dry and took the opportunity to check out the surgeon’s work for the first time. Credit where credit was due, it was a neat job. Back in the bedroom, he opened a drawer to find some of his own clothes, transplanted from Phoenix. Simultaneously, he blanched at the resurrected memory and welcomed the familiarity and comfort of it.

George had cooked up his version of huevos rancheros, which they ate amidst innocuous conversations on the merits of Belize as a refuge from inconvenient events. 

‘You want to get out of the house? Take a drive up the coast?’

James briefly considered the offer and understood the motivation for it. They both knew a conversation was going to happen and doing it on the road was easier.

‘Sure,’ he replied.

‘There’s a pair of your shades in the drawer over there,’ George smiled.

‘You’re kidding? How did you get all this gear?’

‘I’m told there were several pairs left behind in Phoenix… come on, grab ‘em and let’s go.’

They drove in companionable silence in the stop-start traffic of town, before the open road signalled the questions to start.

James went for a tame opener. ‘So how is New Orleans?’

George drew a deep breath and released it with a heavy sigh that James really hadn’t been expecting.

‘Honest answer is NOLA’s been a bitch, Giant Peach,’ said George, staring fixedly ahead.

‘In what way?’

‘In every way I care to think of. Well, maybe that’s not entirely fair. Teresa’s expanded the business again. I’m not sure how she manages to pull things out of the fire, but she does. Like in Phoenix, you think she’s down on the canvas and out for the count, then she gets right back up and lands a knock-out blow that you never saw coming. She’s got business in Atlanta, Boaz is running the ship in Miami, and now she’s moving into New York. Got to hand it to her, the girl’s got a talent for this racket.’

‘So what’s the downside?’

‘Downside is we took some heavy blows along the way. We all paid a high old price,’ sighed George pensively.

James felt on uneven ground here, not sure what George meant and not sure how far to tread. He tried a safer tack.

‘Boaz in Miami, huh? Wonder what Miami makes of Boaz?!’

George smiled.

‘I wasn’t sure that Boaz would stick working for Teresa. Guess Javier’s helped make things work there.’

George’s smile evaporated and his mood darkened.

‘What happened?’ asked James cautiously.

‘Javier’s part of the price, Giant Peach. He made a bad call with the wrong guy. Killed a sleazeball who turned out to be a judge’s nephew. Could probably have dealt with that but he didn’t come clean to Teresa about it till it was way too late. Trying to protect his woman but ended up costing her life too. Goddamit but there goes another fine woman complicating life for us simple boys.’

‘Wasn’t his job to be protecting Teresa first and foremost?’ asked James.

‘Whoa, careful now, Jimmy Boy. We don’t all get your luxury of business and pleasure being one and the same thing. I don’t know what happened there with you and Teresa an’ I respect your right to make your choice. But don’t you forget that you walked away from the job and left others to do it the best way they could.’

It was King-George-blunt but James realised he deserved that. A year ago, he wouldn’t have so readily accepted the admonition, would have frosted over and blanked it, but he wasn’t the same person that had left a year ago. And though he knew he could have countered that there was more to all that than George knew, to go into that meant revealing to George something that Teresa was owed first.

‘Yeah, that was insensitive, George. Sorry.’

George was surprised by James’ ready apology. ‘Apology accepted,’ said George, looking round at James, wondering what had changed in the last year.

‘So… did Teresa deal with Javier?’ James asked nervously, not sure he wanted to see that level of hardheaded ruthlessness in Teresa.

‘She had no choice. She had to hand him over to the Judge. Don’t know what happened from there but I assume the worst.’

‘She really have no choice?’

George turned to look at James. ‘You worried she’s gonna bust your balls for something, Baby Chapo?’ he jibed with a grin. ‘Worried she’s gone full Camila Vargas while you been gone?!!’

‘I haven’t done anything to worry about.’

‘No? Well, your balls are safe then, aren’t they? You got nothing to worry about.’ George seemed to thoroughly enjoy his own opaque joke for a few moments before returning to the subject of Javier. ‘Nah, truth is, he left Teresa in an impossible position and he took responsibility for it. She didn’t need to decide, he made the decision for her – he was classy like that. Doesn’t make it easier to live with it from where I stand, mind – I miss the dude and I ain’t ashamed to tell you that.’

They drove on, needing a little silence to digest all that as the road twisted and turned alongside a beautiful coastline with sky blues seas. James caught himself musing on the life of a tour guide in this setting and immediately ridiculed himself for even recalling the earlier conversation. But he allowed himself to acknowledge how free he felt at this moment in time, permissibly dwelling in an enforced hiatus from the ugly side of his life.

‘Probably something else you should know before you see Teresa,’ said George, breaking the silence sombrely. James heard George’s tone and prepared himself. ‘There were other casualties in the….’ George searched for a different, less critical description, rotating his index finger as he searched, but resigned himself to it. ’…mess, I guess… caused by Javier. Teresa’s god-son Tony was killed in a car bomb meant for Teresa.’

‘Fuck… Oh fuck, no, no, no.’ James shut his eyes as he felt his heart ache for Teresa's loss, fully aware of the depth of the agony and responsibility she would bear for that. It took a few moments but then it dawned on him.

‘Wait. It was meant for Teresa? Was she hurt?’

‘Yeah. She was too close to the explosion for comfort. Spent some time in hospital but came out the other side. I wasn’t there either,’ he added, anticipating and understanding the futile but inescapable guilt at not being there to protect Teresa.

‘Fuck…..’

George pulled the car up and switched off the engine. He looked round at James, who was lost in thought, staring blankly out of the window.

‘Come on. Let’s get some air.’

They walked the short distance over to the dunes and sat down, both looking out over the sea, a gentle breeze ruffling their hair, and both saying nothing. Presently, George broke the silence.

‘So are you back for good then, Baby Chapo?’

James drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘Honest answer, George, I don’t know. I don’t know how things lie at the other end. Kind of been out of the loop for a short while, you know…’

‘You said the Russians were after Teresa.’

‘Yeah. And that’s partly Malta coming back to bite us.’

George sighed but nodded his head. He’s always thought there’d be a price to pay someday.

‘Don’t mind me saying so, Teresa’s not the same woman you left behind. She’s a powerhouse now. Tougher than she was, and that’s saying something coz that girl always had steel running through her. If we were back in Malta now, I have to think hard about whether or not she’d make the same choice with those girls. I’m not criticising that or nothin’ coz I wouldn’t have made that choice in the first place myself. I’m just saying she’s changed.’

James just listened, taking it all on board and letting himself get as prepared as possible before the inevitable meeting.

‘Mind you, can’t quite put my finger on how yet, but you’ve changed too. Maybe a brush with mortality does that to you. And respect to you, Baby Chapo, coz whichever way I cut it, you might have been MIA for a year, but you took a bullet for her.’

James was moved by the tribute and felt his throat tightening. God, here it came again, the emotion, the vulnerability, the weakness. He looked away, out over the horizon, not liking his inability to acknowledge George’s testimony but not knowing how to accept it.

‘Come on, let’s get you back.’

They returned to the Jeep and retraced their path along the coast road, quieter than they had been on the way out but not uncomfortable.

‘How’s Pote?’ asked James.

George turned with a crocodile smile on his face.

‘Chewy’s grand, Baby Chapo. Just grand! I guess that’s what the flush of love does to us, as you and I both know!’

‘Yeah?!’ exclaimed James.

‘Yep, she came right out of nowhere and clean stole his heart away. Living together an’all loved up.’ George looked at James, as James smiled backed, pleased for Pote. ‘Goes by the name of Kelly Anne….’

‘How safe your balls feeling now, Baby Chapo?!!!!’

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

They made it back, Kelly Anne having unwittingly provided James with the adrenaline shot that kept him awake and somehow helped contain the nagging throb of pain in his side for the remainder of the journey. It gave George prolonged mirth at James’ expense, returning his mood to its usual level of good humor and bonhomie. After something to eat, exhaustion caught up with James, irrational though it seemed to him having done little more than sit on his ass most of the day. Within a second of lying down, he was asleep.

Teresa gently opened the door of his room and saw the steady rise and fall of his breathing. She came in, silent in her bare feet, and moved towards the bed. With James lying on his side and just enough evening light coming through the shutters that he hadn’t even had the energy left to close, she could see the two fresh wounds in his body, the bullet’s trajectory through his body starkly plotted. She knew the story – it had ripped through him, so close to exiting the other side that they deemed it safer to extract it from his back than to reverse it along its path through his abdomen. The foreboding it gave her returned to the pit of her stomach. She carefully sat down on the edge of the bed but even that small movement alerted him. He quarter-raised an eyelid, deeply ingrained survival instinct just overriding sheer physical exhaustion .

‘Hey,’ she whispered, with the softest smile.

There was the tiniest glimpse of recognition and an almost-imperceptible flicker of his mouth before he sunk safely back into deep, exhausted sleep. Gifted this secret solitude, no-one to witness her actions and question their meaning, Teresa allowed herself the luxury of placing her hand gently on the top of his arm, absorbing the warmth of his skin, watching him sleep a few moments more, before she pressed her fingers to her mouth and placed the kiss on his sleeping head. In memory of what they'd had in Phoenix. Facing him down with what she now knew would keep for tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sheesh, that was a big old chunk... and not quite what I'd expected either. No matter...post it... you know you can...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. Much scrapping and starting again... but at least now, I think I know where it's going. I think...

Teresa rejoined George in the kitchen, returning to the glass of wine on the table. She swirled the ruby red liquid round in the bowl and watched it eddy and settle. George continued cooking, with one eye on Teresa.

‘You get anything out of him?’ drawled George.

‘No. He’s flat out.’

‘Figures.’ George served out the food and brought the two plates to the table. They ate in contemplative silence for a few minutes.

‘You get anywhere with the Russians?’ asked George tentatively.

‘I think so. They’ve been led to believe that I’m a liability.’

‘Does that include Malta?’

‘Yes but El Gordo too. Longstanding connections between Cuba and Russia.’

‘How’ve you calmed them down then?’

‘Oksana helped. She backed me up that El Gordo had caused more problems than was good for business.’

‘And Malta?’

Teresa shrugged. ‘I paid Rocco for those girls. It was a minor inconvenience to him. I pointed out it was his male ego that was damaged, not his business. We both know he will have replaced them easily. Oksana was helpful with that too.’

‘You still sure you want to be in business with them?’

‘I think we can make our businesses work together. I think I convinced them that I deal straight and I am here to do business. I don’t give a shit about nationalities and politics. Just a couple of practical things to iron out but we struck a deal.’ Teresa kept it light-touch and hoped that George wouldn’t press any further.

‘So how does James fit in, then?’

‘I don’t entirely know yet.’ Teresa wasn’t altogether comfortable with being economical with the truth with George but there were things that were better kept as close as possible. ‘How’s he been?’ she asked.

‘Quiet. Slept a lot but the doc seems happy with him. But he was quiet when we went out today, get a change of scenery and all that. I mean, we talked a bit. But there’s something different about him that I can’t quite describe. Bit bruised maybe? A bit more open too? Even apologised this afternoon… caught me completely unawares. Most sensitivity I’ve seen from Baby Chapo.’

Teresa took that in, knowing what George meant but knowing too that there was a vulnerable, sensitive side to James. What’s gone on in the past year to bring that sensitivity closer to the surface, she wondered.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

It was a touch before three in the morning. James pulled a chair out to sit down, watching the rain bouncing off the floor of the deck outside. He took another mouthful of water from the glass. He wanted a cigarette but knew there weren’t any. Movement out of the corner of his eye caused him to turn his head.

‘Can’t sleep?’ Teresa asked him.

‘Something like that.’ There was no need to go into the screwed-up dreams that the painkillers gave him. ‘You?’

‘Heard something down here. Thought it would be George though. How are you doing?’ she said, moving to boil the kettle.

‘I’m fine,’ he said simply.

Teresa smiled slightly at the ludicrous understatement. 'You weren't too far away from dying,' she said gently.

'Neither were you.'

Teresa joined him at the table with a mug of steaming mint tea. They sat in near-darkness, only the moonlight breaking the blackness, and near-silence, just listening to the angry, insistent staccato of the rain. The near-silence stretched between them, feeling both awkward as they wondered what was the right thing to say, how to start bridging the gap between them, and appropriate, soothing even, respectful of the serenity of the night hours.

Teresa blew gently on her tea.

‘Thank you,’ she said quietly, looking directly at James.

He turned and saw her intent gaze. He knew what she was talking about. He held her gaze.

‘Any time.’ He meant it, literally. And she knew he did.

James looked at her. She looked different and the same. Even in the dishevelment of a broken night, she looked more poised and polished than when he’d left her. But he could still see the earthy, determined defiance, the fighting spirit that had been front and centre in Texas. Like George had said, she’d changed. And she’d stayed the same.

‘I’m so sorry about Tony.’

‘Thank you.’ She meant it sincerely but also needed to stay away from there – talk about something else. ‘Are you really fine?’

‘More or less. They removed the spleen, but you can live without it. Other than that, it’ll heal. Thank you for going to all this trouble.’

‘I think you earned it. More than earned it. I didn’t like the idea of you languishing alone and uncared for,’ she smiled, a certain lightness to her remark but also a considerable amount of truth. James returned the smile guardedly, not sure how much to read into it.

Silence returned between them, James looking pensively out over the headland and Teresa sipping tea, one knee hugged up to her body, and watching James. As he turned to face her, she flicked her gaze away.

‘Listen, while we’re talking about serious stuff, can we get this out in the open? George told me about Kelly Anne.’

Teresa looked at him. ‘What did he tell you?’

‘Just that she’s back and with Pote.’

‘So what do you want to talk about?’

‘Well, I’d guess you were pretty pissed when you found out she was still alive.’

‘You could say that.’

James sighed deeply before launching into his justification. ‘I guess I couldn’t help but feel pity for her. The way she’d got so caught up in a situation way beyond her control, that she wasn’t equipped to handle and couldn’t find a way out of… And the way I did feel sorry for her, not angry with her, well…it kind of confirmed that I couldn’t do what you expected me to do.’

‘Did it not matter that she almost got me killed?’

‘Of course it did. But I don’t believe she ever thought that was what was going to happen. I didn’t think there was a chance in hell of her coming back and there was precious little she could tell anyone that would put you in danger. So I made a judgement call and let her go. And truth is, I decided it was an unnecessary death that I could avoid. I understand that you’re pissed with me about it and I am sorry about that. But I’m not sorry that I let her go.’

Teresa nodded thoughtfully, considering what James had said. She held their silence as the rain drummed relentlessly in the background.

‘You’re right, I was pissed with you when I found out. Pissed because I was caught out, and because you didn’t follow orders.’ She looked down at her mug again and steeled herself for the next part.

‘But if you had done it, then Tony wouldn’t have had her to turn to when Cortez’s sicarios came after him. She was brave as hell the way she protected him.’ Teresa paused as the pain of Tony’s death reared brutally back to the surface. James desperately wanted to touch her, to comfort her, but it felt intrusive and presumptive. He just waited, while she marshalled the feelings back into the place where she kept them, shut away from public view.

‘And the truth is, James, that there have been too many unnecessary deaths in New Orleans and I became glad that you’d saved us from one more.’

James was stunned at this reaction but suspected that Teresa wasn’t finished yet.

‘I’ve thought a lot about why you didn’t do it. You had every right to be angry with her for setting you up. And you had every right to be angry with me too. I thought about myself, pointing a gun at Camila’s head and not being able to pull the trigger. Camila did me far more wrong – she wanted me dead and tried very hard to do that. And I still couldn’t kill her point blank. But I expected you to execute Kelly Anne? I’m not sure what that says about me…’ she tailed off, now the one to look pensively out over the headland for a few moments.

‘And I thought about the maid in Dallas. And Guero in Bolivia. And the situation in Dallas with Devon. And Kelly Anne. And maybe we’d all be better off if I’d trusted you and your judgement calls…’ she said sadly. James looked away and Teresa stared down into her lukewarm tea, as a wide variety of raw emotions and poignant memories stung both of them, rising up remorselessly from the crevices they’d been shoved down into. The incessant rain matched the mood but the fading night warned them that soon, early daylight might expose what the darkness allowed them to hide.

James was first to move, appalled all over again by how exposed his feelings were, but surprised by the outcome of the conversation. As he pushed himself carefully up from the chair, Teresa got up too, also raw and in need of comfort that she hadn’t had in so, so long.

‘Thank you. For everything you’ve been through for me,’ she whispered and without looking at him, not allowing either of them to deliberate about it, she carefully moved into his body, spreading her arms up his back. James wrapped his arms around her. It felt fraught with emotional danger but there was no chance that he could reject her and truth be told, the comfort it provided was every bit as needed by him as it was by her. Besides, it made no promises or demands; it merely acknowledged and respected all they’d gone through with and for each other up to this point. For old time’s sake, as they say. And hidden as it was in the darkness, just, it was almost as if it didn’t count in real life, only in this secret night interlude.

They had no idea how long they stood like that. As long as they needed to find the comfort they both sought, as long as it took to put a little bit of love and humanity into souls that had been variously depleted of those vital resources.

James looked down into Teresa’s eyes and pushed a stray unruly tendril back from her face.

‘Go get some sleep,’ he whispered.

‘You too,’ she replied.

They went upstairs, and laughed softly at George’s snoring, audible even through the closed door.

‘Night,’ they said as they went their separate ways.

James fell asleep almost immediately, peacefully. Teresa climbed into her bed, pulling the light blanket around her and curling up. She wondered if she was finally about to let herself cry, wondered at how close she had come to letting it go with James, but no. The White Queen was back in control, pulling her back from the edge.

‘You had the choice. The pain of life or the peace of death. You chose life. This is the price you pay for it.’


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you this one would come faster than the last...

George had followed the doctor up the driveway and he greeted her with a cheery wave as she gathered her bag and headed towards the house.

‘Morning, Doc. Nice day again,’ he said with a broad smile on his face. He led the way, opening the door then standing back to let her inside, like the gentleman he was.

‘All peace and quiet in here,’ George observed, ambling up the hall. ‘Teresa?’ he called out.

They turned into the open plan kitchen and living area. Teresa and James stood awkwardly on opposite sides of the table, the room thick with tension, suppressed anger on one side, attempted conciliation on the other, all mixed with anguish at the untimely interruption. George looked between them, feeling every bit as awkward.

‘Errr, Giant Peach – you got a visitor…’ he said, as lightly as he could.

‘Yeah…’ said James, trying to recover some composure. ‘Hey,’ he said, nodding at the doctor, moving away from the table, towards the stairs. They disappeared upstairs and George and Teresa heard the door shut.

George looked at Teresa.

‘Something go down here while I was gone?’

Teresa pursed her lips. ‘You could say that. I’m going to get some air.’

George stood in the middle of the room, bag of groceries still in his arms, feeling like he was stuck between two belligerent teenagers. ‘Can’t leave you two kids alone for a minute,’ he huffed to no-one but himself.

\----------------------------------------------------------

James stood at the window of his room, looking out toward the beach, with his back purposely to the doctor, aware he appeared rude but still trying to re-install his guard. He spotted Teresa and felt needled again. His heart was still pounding faster than normal and the shock of the encounter was dawning on him. The doctor busied herself getting equipment out of her bag, glancing occasionally at her patient, whose tension was physically visible in his taut, hunched shoulders and tightly folded arms.

‘OK… let’s start with the basics.’ James turned round. ‘Sit down there and give me your left arm. Let’s see _just how high_ your blood pressure is.’

He rolled his eyes at her, not at her, at the situation, and surrendered. She said nothing, just got on with her job, took his temperature, waited for the blood pressure monitor to beep and wrote down all the data. She carefully felt the glands in his neck and seemed satisfied.

‘So how high is it?’ he grimaced, appreciating the ice-breaker.

‘Higher than it has been… Exposed to any stressful situations lately?’ she flicked her eyebrows up at him and grinned. ‘But still absolutely fine. How’ve you been? Any headaches, sore throat?’

‘No.’

‘Nausea or vomiting?’

‘No.’

‘Sleeping ok?’

‘No.’

‘Tell me.’

‘Those painkillers give me bad dreams.’

‘Is that the painkillers or your life in general?’

‘Who knows?’

‘Fair comment. How much do you still need them?’

‘Less. But at night. When I’m most tired.’

‘You taking it easy? You’re not pushing yourself too hard?’

‘I don’t have the energy to push myself too hard.’

‘Oh, that’s all relative. Judging by the condition of your body, you push yourself harder than most to start with. Don’t worry - it’ll come. Let me have a look at the wounds.’

James pulled his t-shirt over his head and lay down on his side. Peering at the wounds, she pressed progressively towards the centre of them until she got some reaction to the pressure. ‘Good,’ she murmured approvingly, ‘you’re doing fine. Let’s remove the sutures.’

As she set about the task, she returned to their previous conversation. ‘So, how’s the career planning going? Got a Plan B yet?’

James smiled. ‘Strangely enough, I caught myself thinking about it that afternoon.’

‘And…?’

‘As tempting as it is, I can’t see a way out yet.’

‘You can’t just resign, then.’

‘I wish it were that straightforward.’

‘Was that the ‘line of duty’ downstairs just now?’

‘Yeah, that was her.’

‘By the looks of her, you did your job properly.’

‘I’m not sure she’s seeing it quite the same way at the moment.’

‘Oh – sounds odd... So is she worth protecting?’

‘Yes.’ Despite the altercation, James didn’t hesitate. If he’d had been facing the doctor at that moment, he would have seen her smile knowingly but sadly, suspecting that nothing much was going to change with this one, resigned to where he would probably end up.

‘How long do you reckon before I can leave?’ he asked, turning his head towards her. She caught his eye.

‘Do you need to leave?’ she asked carefully.

‘Maybe. I don’t know.’

‘Well, I’d say two things. One – you’re still healing internally, it’s not a done deal in there. Two – have you actually done anything, walked anywhere of any great distance that suggests you’re ready to just up and leave right now? You just told me you haven’t go the energy to push yourself and you look pretty tired. Let’s put it this way, as your doctor right now, I’d strongly advise you to give it at least another week.’

‘Must say, they did a very neat job on you,’ she said approvingly. ‘You’re done.’

James sat up and pulled his T shirt back on, while she cleared away.

‘Orders remain the same. You start feeling off-color. Anything starts going backwards with those wounds. You call. I’ll change the painkillers for you, in case it is them. Apart from all that, just stay put for a bit longer if you possibly can. Sort out whatever it was going on down there, if that’s what it is, if you don’t mind me saying so.’

‘Any more words of life advice?’

‘Would they make any difference?’ she asked quietly.

‘Your last ones made me think more than I have for a while.’ She looked at him, considering him as well as her response. He went on, surprised that he wanted to hear from her again but she was a welcome change of mood from the argument with Teresa. ‘You have a different perspective from anyone else I come across. More optimistic. Makes me aware there are other things out there.’

Still she considered him, before drawing in a breath. ‘You always have options. They might not be easy ones, or palatable ones. And the more difficult ones may be the better ones in the long run. But you always have a choice. And if you think you don’t, well, you’re choosing not to look and letting yourself be carried along by others – which is a choice in itself.’

They looked at each other, till James looked down. She followed his gaze, down to his hand where his thumb was insistently toying with the finger next to it. She let the silence hold, letting his mind work over whatever it was working over.

‘Right. Psycho-analysis over. What do you do if you start feeling even a little bit rough?’

‘Call you.’

‘Correct. Other than that, you don’t need me anymore. Take it easy, give it all time.’

James nodded.

‘Take care of yourself, Giant Peach.’

He smiled, incongruous as it was coming from her. ‘Thanks again. For everything.’

‘You’re very welcome.’

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

George let the doctor out, promising to call her if James showed the slightest sign of anything untoward, no matter how much James might insist he was fine. George got the message loud and clear, muttering that he was much more intimidated by her than by James. He shut the door behind her and wondered who to go to, if anyone. How did he end up playing emotional nursemaid to these two? He found James fast asleep on his bed – no surprise given that he’d heard James up and about in the small hours of the morning two nights running now.

Teresa was sitting on the downslope of a soft white dune, looking out over the sky blue sea, hair dancing gently in the breeze. She turned as she heard him approach and smiled sadly at him.

‘Principessa. What gives?’

‘Hey, George.’ They sat together, staring out over the sea.

‘Wanna talk about it?’

Teresa sighed. ‘I took a call while you were out…’

\--------------------------------------

Unknown number – she moved out onto the deck to take it.

‘Hello.’ She said it as a statement, not a question.

‘Ms Mendoza. I believe you have something that belongs to me.’ No introduction but Teresa instantly knew the voice, emblazoned on her memory as it was from a near-fatal night in Bolivia. She loathed the arrogance that assumed he needed no introduction.

‘Really? And what would that be?’

‘Don’t be obtuse, Teresa, it doesn’t suit you.’

‘Well, I’d love to stay playing guessing games with you, Devon, but I don’t have the time.’

‘James Valdez belongs to me.’

She’d half-anticipated and thoroughly dreaded that answer.

‘And how on earth does he ‘belong’ to you?’

‘He’s been with me for the last year, Teresa. You really thought you’d saved him from me at your winery? You know better than that.’

‘Why do you want him, Devon? It’s not because you value what he does. You were clear about that at the winery. And if you simply wanted to exact retribution on him for that job, he wouldn’t be alive, now would he? So I find myself wondering why he’s more useful to you alive than dead and why you’re calling, so desperate to have him back. Does he have something on you?’ she finished, somehow managing to inject an inquisitive sneer into her voice.

‘It’s the mark of the man that he came crawling to you for protection and compromised you in the process. Given what I’m sure he’s divulged to you, you know it’s in your interests to return him to me. You have three days, Ms Mendoza.’

‘Devon?’ she said lightly, hoping to hook him back in before he hung up.

The line was still open.

‘He’s divulged nothing. As you say, that’s the mark of the man. You, on the other hand, have been illuminating. It’s the mark of a very different man.’ She waited for a reaction to her mockery.

‘Bullshit. Three…’ She’d cut the call before he could finish his demand.

Teresa’s heart was pounding. She felt the exhilaration of the exchange, of clearly getting under Devon’s skin, of the mental agility of her bluff because truth be told, she still couldn’t quite see the whole image. But she already had several of the pieces of the jigsaw that would reveal the true picture of Devon Finch. She just needed to fit the pieces together. The adrenaline started to burn off, allowing apprehension to set in. Where did James fit in to this? If what she suspected about Devon’s connections were true, where _the hell_ did James fit in? What did James have on Devon, to make him want him back? The Russian attempt to take her out and James’ appearance must be linked to Devon, it was too much of a co-incidence otherwise. Her faith in him allied with her logic swirled with the fear of the unknown and unexplained angles of it all.

She turned round and her heart sank as she saw James in the kitchen. His back was to her, as he leaned heavily with both hands on the kitchen counter for support, head sunk down, as the coffee brewed. His stance betrayed his fatigue, but she already knew from waking as he’d come back upstairs around 5 that he hadn’t slept again. His tiredness, her adrenaline and eagerness to solve the puzzle, plus the malign effect of Devon Finch on anything relating to them were a dangerous mix but physically, there was no way around this. She prepared herself to camouflage her feelings, as she slid the door open.

James turned round.

‘Morning,’ he said. He could still read her face, even after a year away. ‘Everything all right?’ he queried.

‘It’s fine,’ she said, mustering a smile, a thin one he’d seen before when it accompanied the ‘El Santo in Phoenix’ story.

‘No it’s not.’

For all her resolve, Teresa couldn’t hold back but she worked hard to keep her voice neutral, not accusing.

‘How did you find out about the Russians, James?’

‘One of those things you stumble across in our business.’

‘So you’re still in the business?’

‘Yeah. For now.’

‘Working for who? We tried to find you. You were invisible.’

‘I just went a different way.’

Teresa nodded. James waited. ‘So have you got plans for when you’re ready to leave?’ she asked.

‘Yeah, I’ll go back to where I came from.’

‘You can’t stay here?’

‘No. I’ve got commitments.’

‘To Devon Finch?’

James didn’t want to be drawn into this. It was a minefield he didn’t yet know how to navigate. ‘What’s Devon got to do with this?’

‘You tell me.’

‘It looks like you already know.’

‘That was him on the phone, making it very clear he expects you back pretty soon.’

James just looked at her and waited. There was something else still to come.

‘I think he’s tied up with the Feds…’

‘… and you think that means I am too.’

‘No but…’ But James wasn’t listening.

‘Fuck, here we go again! What, you think I’m here to find out where you are? Or to weasel my way back into your business?’

‘That’s not what I’m saying, James…’

‘You think I came close to dying just to ingratiate myself back in with you?? That’s a pretty fucking dumb strategy, if you think about it, Teresa. But fine, you stick with your theory that I’m Devon’s mole. Maybe you’ll be right second time round. And while we’re on the subject of fucking dumb strategies, you do know that Boaz is the supermax prisoner that we broke out of DEA custody in Dallas three years ago, don’t you?’

They both stopped still as the lock turned in the front door, and footsteps approached.

‘All peace and quiet in here…’ George observed, ambling up the hall.


	5. Chapter 5

‘Why d’you think Devon’s mixing it with the Feds?’ asked George.

‘I told you about going to Bolivia to meet El Santo and that we were raided by the military, right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I only gave you the short version. Truth is that I was the one that gave away El Santo’s location. A tracking device was planted in my necklace and I led them there. My tech guy said it was military. But the raid – it wasn’t Bolivian military. I heard Devon Finch’s voice giving the orders. This was some sort of US special ops outfit, operating outside of the US.’

‘Shit, T…’

‘We both know he’s a serious player in the business, so somehow he’s managing to do that and be involved with a high level government agency. I’d guess CIA, to have that sort of reach in a foreign country.’

George pondered this revelation. ‘It might explain a little bit how he rose so fast, straight out of nowhere. Shit… So where does James fit in?’

‘I think that’s where he’s got the intelligence about the Russians coming for me and there’s what Marcel said. The questions that should have been a problem at the hospital just went away.’

‘Why would James leave you to go back to Devon though?’

‘Devon came after us at the winery in Phoenix, wanting me to give El Santo up. But he also wanted James back, for a job that went bad, and I refused.’

‘Oh shit… How did you refuse? Devon’s not the kinda guy to take no for an answer.’

‘Managed to track down his mother and threaten to hurt her, if he didn’t back off.’

‘Whoa, shit, Baby Girl! Your balls are even bigger than I thought!’

Teresa smiled at George’s reaction and let the information settle a moment.

‘Hang on, then, back up a little. Let’s say Devon is a fed. And let’s say James knew that and was working for him when he found you in Malta... Does that fit? It would fit with someone who’d have to be close to you planting a tracker in your necklace.’

‘It wasn’t him.’

‘You sure?’

‘Positive. I more or less accused him of it and it wasn’t him. That’s why he left. He said he couldn’t work for someone who questioned his loyalty like that.’

‘Yeah, and the rest of it…’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He wasn’t just working for you, was he.’

Teresa said nothing.

‘Listen, T. I know I got this loudmouth pirate gig goin’ on here, but you know I got a soft sensitive side to me too - ‘specially where you’re concerned. From the first day you two showed up on my boat, I thought there was something there between you. Flat out said so and you both gave me that look, but I guess you might not even have known it yourselves yet. I don’t know when it started but that day at Taza’s, before it all went haywire? You were pissed at Chewie but you were a whole different kind of pissed at James and I knew for sure then. Then when he left Phoenix, man…’ He paused as he saw Teresa react, dropping her head to avoid his gaze.

‘Ah, don’t worry, you’re both careful about it. Call it my mama’s intuition passing on down the generation, but I knew. And honestly, when I was in a space to be able to think about it, T, I was made up for you. You and me, we can find all the sex we want in our business but love? That’s much harder to find, darlin’. So when you find it, it’s precious. And when you lose it, well, it hurts like all hell let loose…’ Now it was role reversal, as George’s voice and mind tailed off for a moment, and he looked down, avoiding her gaze as the memories stung.

Teresa reached for George’s hand and they held each other’s hand and gaze, sharing rueful smiles with each other and looked out to sea for a moment’s comfort and closure.

‘Back to the Giant Peach puzzle,’ said George, injecting lightness back into the proceedings. ‘You think he’s gone back to make amends to Devon.’

‘I guess.’

‘Then suddenly, he’s out there taking a bullet for you, protecting you from angry Russians. On behalf of Devon and whoever he’s mixed up with. You’re being protected because you’re valuable to them. How d’you feel about figuring in their plans?’

‘Not altogether thrilled. I’d guess from the timing of events it’s got something to do with the Colombians, especially with Castel moving into position and taking out her own uncle.’ Teresa thought about it, uncomfortable with being an unwitting player. And then the next piece slid into place. ‘And that’s why Devon’s demanding him back.’ George looked perplexed. ‘Devon thinks James is leverage with me, if I start stepping out of line.’

George thought about that. ‘Would Devon know that would play with you? I mean, I only know because I’ve seen you guys at close quarters.’

‘I told him I was prepared to risk my business and my life for James.’

‘Holy moly, T……’ George’s face said it all – shock that Teresa would be so open about her feelings, especially to someone like Devon, fully exposing a clearly exploitable weakness.

‘I know. It’s what I needed to do at the time.’

George sat silently, assimilating everything he’d just learnt. ‘I can’t make sense of it all. I hardly dare ask but if you’re so positive it wasn’t James who planted the tracker, who was it?’

‘Kelly Anne.’

‘Lord above, Teresa… Kelly Anne who now works for you?! And lives with Chewie?!’ George wasn’t sure how many more revelations he could cope with today.

‘I thought you knew?’

‘I knew James didn’t follow orders with her, but Chewie weren’t sayin’ much more on the subject. No freakin’ wonder!’

They sat silently, each mulling over a different set of revelations. ‘I need to talk to him,’ Teresa declared, more to herself than to George.

‘You need to decide what you want as well, coz Devon wants James back. And that puts you in danger if he doesn’t go – and that’s exactly why James will go.’

‘Unless I can persuade Devon to give it up.’

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was right. It wasn’t the painkillers, it was his life. James stood in the shower, using the cold water to wake himself up and jolt him back into reality, away from the claustrophobic dreams that his subconscious inflicted on him. Not that immediate reality felt much better right now because he knew he’d lost control. He never lost control like that. It was like a runaway train, reacting to what he thought Teresa was saying, not what she was actually saying. That exposed the fact that it was either a reflection of his current state or the effect that Teresa had on him, when he thought he’d parceled up those feelings and shoved them safely out of reach. Maybe it was the combustible product of the two. But he had options. You always had options. He was leaving, getting back to Devon, extracting himself from this situation. Ironically, it felt like the easy option.

George’s bluff tones interrupted his thinking.

‘Hey, Baby Chapo. Get your ass down here, we’re eating.’

James turned the shower off, grabbed a towel and threw it over his head. He roughly dried his hair and threw the towel into the corner of the bathroom. He looked up and caught sight of himself in the mirror. He was about to look away, but he caught himself and forced himself to look back. And he made himself hold his own gaze, affirming what he needed to do.

‘You’re on wine duty,’ said George, as James arrived in the kitchen. ‘Get something decent from the refrigerator.’

Teresa’s back was to them both as she put glasses on the table. George turned back to the task of plating up. By the time Teresa turned back toward the kitchen, James was looking at her. He caught her glance at him and held it.

‘I’m sorry,’ he mouthed to her.

She managed to cover her surprise. Her eyes softened and she smiled gently, accepting his apology with an almost imperceptible nod. He looked down contritely. Teresa took plates from George and took them to the table as James uncorked the bottle of wine and followed them through to the table.

George was surprised how relaxed dinner had been but the time had come.

‘Right boys and girls, time for me to vamoose, leave you two to talk.’ He picked up his half-glass of wine and slouched out.

James topped up their glasses with the remainder of the bottle. ‘I’m sorry about this morning. I lost it and I was out of order.’

‘I didn’t mean to accuse you…’

‘You didn’t. I over-reacted.’

‘Are you okay? I’ve never seen you like that before.’

James breathed out, trying to put words to the emotions. ‘Everything’s a bit near the surface, if that makes sense. And I was tired, which never helps.’

Teresa nodded.

‘Devon expects you back in three days’ time.’

James nodded.

‘Why did you go back to him?’

‘I have to do something. At least I know what I’m getting with him’. Teresa let that half-truth go for now.

‘Did you know he was in bed with the Feds when you went back?’

‘Yes.’

Teresa was puzzled. ‘And you were OK with that? Does that mean you’re working for them too?’

‘Not exactly working. I’m not involved in his business.’

‘But that’s how you found out about the Russians’ plan?’

‘Yes. It suited Devon to have me intercept it. And I’m disposable to him if it went wrong. What made you think Devon was a fed?’ asked James.

‘Ivan said the tracker in my necklace was military. El Santo’s place in Bolivia was hit by some sort of special ops team, directed by Devon. That’s serious stuff, on foreign soil…’

‘So not Bolivian military then?’ James interjected rhetorically. Teresa looked down.

‘No… And you got way too easy a ride at the hospital in New Orleans for someone with a gunshot wound. Someone didn’t want awkward questions being asked.’

Teresa picked at a bunch of grapes that was sitting on the table.

‘Thing is, James, I can’t let you go back. Devon thinks that if he has you, he has leverage over me. He thinks you are my weakness. So it makes no sense for me to allow you to return to him.’

‘Me staying puts you in danger. I can’t do that.’

‘Do you want to stay?’

‘It’s not about what I want. You need to be sensible about this. Devon won’t let me go.’

‘He will.’

‘Why?’

‘I had another conversation with him.’

‘And?’

‘There are two things that I know, that he needs me to keep secret. First, the CIA; it’s not good for any part of his business if that were to leak out. Secondly, he fucked up when he ordered you to take out that guy in Texas. He was right to suspect the guy wasn’t on the level. But Devon’s weakness is his arrogance. He doesn’t listen to people, he thinks he’s smarter than the rest of us. He underestimates people. He should have listened to you when you said that the guy in Texas had nothing to do with stealing your shipment. But he was a key part of a money laundering operation through the refinery. They were doing business for people fronting for the Russians. Taking that guy out led to the collapse of that operation. The Russians don’t know that Devon was responsible for that.’

James looked at her, trying to assimilate what she was telling him.

Teresa went on. ‘I told him that I’m happy to carry on business as usual and war isn’t good for any of us. He doesn’t need you as an insurance policy for me to carry on my business with Castel. So you can choose what you want to do. You can stay. Or you can go and do something else completely different. I suppose you could go back to Devon but for many reasons, I'd rather you didn't do that.’

James was stunned - impressed at what she’d managed to do. But wholly unprepared for the outcome that she’d just presented him with. He pulled his hand down across his face and still said nothing. It surprised her and she found herself feeling edgy about what his response was going to be, when she’d thought the answer would be clearer.

Finally, he spoke, with a degree of awe in his voice. ‘I don’t know how you manage to turn these situations round.’ He paused again and looked up at her. ‘Don’t think I’m ungrateful for what you’ve done. For everything you’ve done. I'm incredibly grateful. But I can’t stay.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter is not far away, I promise, for anyone who's still reading. This has turned out to be way, way longer than I anticipated at the start...brevity is not my forte, it turns out!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry - it had to go there....

Teresa was surprised by the kick she felt from his answer. It occurred to her that she’d liked him being around again, it felt right, even if it hadn’t all been plain sailing. She also realized she’d already moved down a road where he was part of her life again, subconsciously assumed he’d want to stay.

She’d let him go last time without putting up much of a fight, feeling like she was respecting his wishes, and that she had no right to ask him to stay, having made the fatal error of judgement. But Teresa’s world had changed; George had a point about the rarity of love and New Orleans had provided its own lesson in that too.

‘Can you explain why to me?’

‘I’ve changed, Teresa. I’ve had so much time to think about everything. About my life. About what I’ve done and what I can do and what I want to do. There are two problems. I can’t kill in blind obedience for you anymore. I’m not talking about the Pecases and Birdmen of this world. They’re willing combatants who know the risks. And I know what you said the other night about Kelly Anne and about trusting my judgement more. But that’s so easy to say in hindsight. There would always be judgement calls that I didn’t agree with and you’d never be able to trust me to do what you want. Suzie died because I was too weak to stand up to Devon. If that were you and I in that situation now, I would not do what you’d ordered me to. And that’s not how it works in our business.’

He looked at her, waiting for some sort of acknowledgement, and she nodded.

‘What’s the second thing?’

‘I always intended to get out of this business at some point. I don’t know when or where or how, but since Phoenix, and particularly lately, I’m more certain than ever that I’ve got a limit - if I stay alive long enough. There’ll come a time when I need to go and it’s not fair to either of us to stay now, knowing that at some point I’ll walk away.’

She looked at him, taking in what he’d said. None of it surprised her. When she thought back through their shared history, it all added up.

She nodded slowly. ‘OK. I see what you’re saying,’ she said.

He was glad she wasn’t going to make this harder for him.

‘I’m not nearly as naïve as I was when we were in Dallas but I’ve never regretted the maid. Things happened in New Orleans that didn’t need to happen. People died who shouldn’t have – because I made decisions that looked tough, but turned out to be rash. And they’ll be forever on my conscience. It’s not how I want to do business either, James, and I trust your judgement more than you think I do, but if it came to a point where we disagreed on someone, I wouldn’t put you in that impossible position.’

It was James’ turn to be taken aback, blindsided by what he'd taken as her acquiescence to his decision, but it was actually anything but. Teresa plowed on regardless, deconstructing his objections.

‘And you’re right about time limits. I’m planning for a future outside of the business too. I’m building up a commercial property portfolio so that we’ll have legitimate businesses to fall back on. My life’s been hard enough up to here; I want to get out and enjoy life at some point. So we’re in agreement there too.’

He stared at her, just stared at her because he didn’t know what to say.

‘Think about it,’ she said casually, ‘I’m going to get some tea.’

She returned five minutes later, with a mug of mint tea but settled herself on the sofa, rather than next to him at the table. She waited a moment but he didn’t move.

‘There’s another problem,’ he said.

‘Then come over here and tell me about it,’ she returned. He moved, bringing the remains of his wine with him and carefully sitting down, facing forward in contrast to Teresa sitting comfortably with her legs tucked under her. He needed to keep this as business-like as he could.

‘Last time we talked about this, you wanted me to run Phoenix. But you’re in business now with people that even Epifanio and Camila shied away from. I don’t know if I can run part of your business, pretty much permanently away from you, when I know the situations you get into. I know you have Pote but I don’t know if I can stomach being back in your business, but not being able to protect you.’

‘You managed to do it this time.’

‘Not with the car bomb.’

Teresa looked down. ‘Pote was there and he couldn’t do anything. There are risks to what we do. No-one’s untouchable.’

‘I know but I can’t work for you at arms’ length.’

She nodded to him. ‘OK. I can work with that.’

She gave James a moment. He couldn’t say anything. His reasons for leaving were dismantled. If that was the basis of his decision to leave, he no longer had reasons to leave. But still he couldn’t say it.

‘What about the rest of it?’ he said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s not just about work, Teresa. We had feelings for each other.’

‘Had?’

‘Have.’

‘Me too,’ she said so softly it was almost a whisper. ‘So where’s the problem?’

‘I don’t have the right to ask you to just go back to where we were.’

‘Rights don't come into it. And I don’t want to go back to where we were. If we went back there, I let you down. You deserve more. So much more.’

She could see him fighting to keep his feelings in check, seeing exactly what he meant that everything was close to the surface. And being glad that it was.

‘I don’t think I do.’

‘I know you don’t. But you’re a lousy judge of that. Do you trust me?’

‘Of course.’

‘Then let me be the judge of it.’

She could his jaw tightening as he wrestled with a myriad of conflicting feelings. He looked up at his empty wine glass. ‘I need a drink – want one?’ he asked, creating an excuse to get away from this, not daring to look at her, getting up a touch too abruptly. The tweak of pain flashed across his face, a metaphor for the proximity of all his wounds. The scarcity of light in the kitchen was a blessing as he took the tequila from the cupboard and put it on the counter top. But the touch of Teresa’s hand on his back stopped him still, and he closed his eyes, as she smoothed it across his shoulders.

‘Don’t hide from me, James,’ she said softly, continuing to slowly stroke his back. She saw his head drop, she thought in despair, but she also felt his shoulders relax and she dared to push him. ‘Turn around... please?’ she whispered, not sure if he would, but desperate to let the feelings surface.

It took a moment, but he did, head still down, avoiding her, gritting his teeth, swallowing hard at the pain in his throat and the stinging in his eyes. She gave him a moment, then stepped into his space and wrapped her arms around him. And finally, finally, he let go, let his arms hold on to her, let his breath and his shoulders go, let his chest sink into her body. And the silent tears that had been building for so long, for so much, he let them go too because holding them in didn’t seem to matter anymore. Teresa held him, patient and calm, feeling him take a deep breath of air, and just holding him gently as he held on to her, as if she were life itself. Some semblance of peace settled through his body but still he held on to her. And she was happy to let him, because she felt a peace inside herself too, one she hadn’t felt in years – probably since Guero and Culiacán, before _all_ this started.

Eventually, he moved back from her, though still he didn’t look at her.

‘I’ll get the drinks,’ she said, getting herself a glass of water first, drinking it, giving him time to gather himself however he needed to. She poured the golden tequila into the glasses and turned to see him leaning against the counter, one leg crossed over the other, looking back together and relatively composed. He took the glass she offered him and finally he looked directly at her.

‘Salud,’ he said.

‘Salud,’ she smiled, touching her glass to his.

They took a small sip of the tequila, too good to be knocked back in one shot. They watched each other and it was James who broke the contact, turning to place his glass on the counter behind him. He uncrossed his leg, stood up straight and reached across to take Teresa’s glass from her hand. She let him slide the cool, smooth glass from her hand and watched his hand as he placed it next to his on the counter. As he turned back to her, she licked her lips, savoring the taste of the tequila she told herself, and heard the involuntary escape of breath from her lungs. He briefly checked her gaze once more, saw what he needed to see. He hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her gently into him, and their eyes closed and their lips met in synchronicity. Intense, heady intoxication flooded through them, before James pulled back slightly, gently pulling Teresa’s lip with him. He briefly opened his eyes, to find Teresa’s still closed, and her mouth open, and he took that as the confirmation he needed that this truly was ok with her. His lips returned to hers, but as his arm tightened around her waist, drawing her in more firmly, her hand touched his face and her lips parted, pulling him deeply into her mouth. There was no rush about it, but it was deep and intense and achingly familiar and when Teresa finally drew away, needing air, she looked at James, adoring his long eyelashes and open-mouthed breathlessness. He came back to her and she smiled at him, as they kissed each other quickly, once, twice then a third, slightly more lingering time, with smiles that dissolved into gentle laughter and the tightest, gently swaying hug that James could manage. Teresa delighted in the warmth of him, of the feeling of his arms around her, and felt his kiss on the top of her head. Finally, they let each other go and James handed back Teresa’s tequila.

‘Salud!’ he grinned.

‘Salud!’

‘So what now?’ he asked, as they returned to the couch.

‘Any other objections to staying?’ she asked teasingly.

‘I’m serious, Teresa. What if I decide I have to get out? I’ve been in this game longer than you have. What if I can’t handle watching you risk your life the way you do?’

‘If you do, you do. But deal with it if and when it happens. Are you ready to get out now?’

‘Not really.’

‘OK. Would you be happier if you went, and left me to it, the risk-taking that you think I do?’

‘Camila didn’t put herself out there like you do.’

‘That’s not a fair comparison. I’m not as established as Camila was. I’m sure she and Epifanio had to take similar risks when they were still getting to the top. Besides, look where Camila ended up anyway.’

He’d exhausted his reasons not to stay. ‘Will it work with Pote and George?’

‘There’s no problem there at all,’ she said confidently.

‘Are you sure about the personal stuff, though? I mean, isn’t it a bit soon?’

‘I don’t want to waste time dancing around what we both know is there. Let whatever happens, happen. When it happens. And _that_ just happened. It felt right to me. Did it feel wrong to you?’

‘No.’

‘Would you rather it hadn’t happened?’

‘No.’

‘Did it feel too fast?’

‘No.’

‘So what’s the problem?’

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

They talked more; Teresa’s plans for Miami without Boaz. Her plans for New York. Told him about Oksana. All business. And he couldn't pretend that on some level, it scared the hell of it him for her. But if he was staying, he'd have to live with the fear, and living with the fear was preferable to living without her. George had re-appeared briefly and looked questioningly at Teresa. She nodded and smiled, earning a wide grin and a wink from George, before he headed out again. But the evening was wearing on.

James stood up. He held his hand out to Teresa. She looked at it, then looked up at him.

‘I want to fall asleep with you,’ he said.

‘You sure?’

James nodded. ‘Life’s too short.’

She smiled and took his hand, and he led her to her room. ‘That way, if I’m not sleeping again, I can leave you in peace in your own bed.’

They climbed into bed and Teresa settled into his right side, with his arm around her shoulder, and her arm laying across his chest.

‘How are your wounds healing?’ she asked.

‘They’re good.’

‘Can I see them?’ she asked quietly.

He looked down at her, with an amused look. ‘Why?’

‘Don’t know. Just intrigued.’

‘Sure, if you like.’

She raised herself up, letting him take his t-shirt off and lie back down. She looked at him and he nodded to her. She knelt beside him and looked at the marks in his abdomen.

‘The stitches are gone,’ she said.

‘She took them out today.’

‘Does this hurt?’ she asked, as she laid her finger gently on the scar and traced the line of it with a featherlight touch.

‘No. But don’t press anything too hard.’

‘Does it still hurt inside?’

‘It’s tender - I’ve still got to be careful with it. There’s no chance of ‘moving too fast’ tonight, however much I might want to,’ he said with a rueful smile.

Teresa smiled at that, but it quickly faded, and she just stared at the scar, contemplating its significance for a moment.

Watching her, he raised his right arm and rubbed his hand across her back. ‘Hey, come back here,’ he whispered.

She turned the light out and tucked back into his side.

‘You’ve gone all quiet on me,’ he said presently.

‘You could have died. You could have been killed outright. Or you could have died from blood loss, trying to find me.’ She shivered at the inescapable evidence of the risks of their business and the lengths he was prepared to go to for her.

‘Yes, but I didn’t. It works both ways. You could have been killed in the car bomb, but you weren’t.’

The silence stretched into the darkness.

‘Does it sound strange that I wish I had been?’

‘No. Not at all,’ said James softly, bringing his left arm over to hold Teresa’s arm.

All Teresa could see in the dark was Tony’s face, confused at not being able to start the engine, and she could bring back so clearly to mind that second or two of her dawning realization of what was happening, without the time to stop him from turning the ignition again. And the physically sickening moment she connected the dots from Javier’s catastrophic errors of judgement to Tony’s death. The gaping chasm in her stomach yawned open up again and the pain in her chest gripped her tight again. She made to choke it all back down again but for the first time, it felt safe to let her grief surface. James felt her tears on his chest, then felt her body start to shudder and somehow, he turned so he held her tight in both his arms. The high dam that had held in check so much pain, for so much loss, for so long, broke. And just as he’d been sanctuary for her for Brenda, now he was the safe place she’d been waiting for to cry for Tony. And for Birdie. And Emilia, whom she barely knew but recognized her situation all too well. Even Bobby. Sam Espinoza. James’ Suzie – even a girl she’d never known. And back full circle to Brenda. Dear God, was it worth it? How many more innocents would die before they got out?

She didn’t know how long she cried, but for as long as it took, he held her steady, one hand gently soothing her from time to time, till she’d exhausted herself and a degree of calm had returned inside her. There was a feeling of relief, as well as a curious sense of recognizing, honoring and even paying for the multitude and magnitude of loss for which she felt responsible. They shifted back, so that her head lay on James’ shoulder and he carefully stroked her hair, both just absorbing the silence.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, with a sniff. ‘It’s the first time I’ve been able to cry for him.’

He kissed the top of her head. ‘Don’t ever be sorry for that.’

They lay silently in the dark. James was still incredulous that he was lying here with her, that this seemed to be happening, though he was still not fully convinced that Devon had let go and wasn't a threat to Teresa. In some ways, he was taking the easy option but in other ways, it was anything but. This option was fraught with the risk of getting hurt. But risk and return are inextricably bound and emotionally, James had spent enough of his life risking little to know the meager return wasn't worth it. Emotionally, he didn't have to live in the dark and he didn't want to anymore. Teresa reflected on the possibilities of a second chance with James and dared to muse on the possibility of a life for them both beyond the drugs business. Realizing he’d not specifically given her a decision, she went in search of reassurance that her premise for a future was valid.

‘You’re not leaving, are you?’

‘No, Teresa, I’m not leaving.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the sap-fest. Self-indulgent, guilty as charged.


	7. Coda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just tagging this on the end, as a bit of a post-Belize afterthought. Nothing more elaborate than smut and fluff... coz that's all I have to offer and, well, why not...

New York wasn’t James’ town. Too claustrophobic. Too loud. Too cold. But it’s where business was so here he was too. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. It’s where Teresa was, so here he was too. He still defaulted to the pretense that it was business but the pace at which he’d adjust to the honest truth was becoming ever faster. He hadn’t seen her for the best part of a fortnight. He was back working again, feeling stronger by the day, and while Teresa had headed to New York, he’d gone to Phoenix and then to Boaz, back in Mexico, to see to some business in the corridor from Sinaloa to Arizona. But now he wanted to see her again, longed to be with her again. Had become re-accustomed to seeing her, to being with her, after an unexpected week-long sojourn in Belize while he recovered and she decided to take some time out with him. His flight to New York had been delayed, so by the time he arrived, Teresa was already at the event. James showered quickly, changed and left.

He arrived at a characterless but upmarket hotel and made his way to the large function room where the event was in full swing. Teresa, standing in shadow on the mezzanine, saw him enter. She watched, taking him all in. James rarely wore suits but when he did, he wore them. She was fully distracted from her conversation, watching him move with quiet, self-contained confidence, to the bar and pick up what looked like a Bourbon on ice. Her attention was dragged back to the tedious conversation she was stuck in with some politico and innate good manners held her there a short while longer, before she began to try to maneuver herself politely away. Finally, she was able to extract herself and head down the stairs to the lower level. James’ eye found her just as she reached the bottom of the staircase and he felt a chain reaction to the sight of her, the flutter in his stomach, the warmth in his heart, finishing a moment later with the gentlest smile that he saw no reason to conceal. Any sight of her would have pleased him but as she made her way across the room, he took in the whole visage. Hair sleek and glossy; the most sophisticated of black sheath dresses – nothing immodest about it except that the cut of it accentuated the shape of her to perfection. He stumbled to work out why such a demure, cover-all dress was so dangerously alluring to him, and then he hit on it. From the cut of the back that he glimpsed only as she turned to acknowledge a call from behind her, to the recognition of bare legs, she was wearing nothing but that dress and, possibly, probably, the finest excuse for panties. She closed the distance between them but said nothing. Didn’t touch him. Ordered a glass of champagne at the bar, and studiously ignored him as he looked at her, but the frisson was there nonetheless. Finally, when she had a glass in hand, she turned to him and looked right into his dark brown eyes.

‘Salud,’ she said.

He clinked his tumbler against her flute. ‘Salud.’

‘Everything alright?’ she asked

‘More than alright. You?’

‘Yeah...’ She looked at him and just managed to control a smile. ‘How was the flight?’

‘Late. Tedious. But I got some sleep.’ Just as well, she thought. ‘Business here OK?’

‘Also tedious. And duplicitous. Politicians…’ Her sentence tailed off, not worthy of finishing the thought.

‘Comes with the territory. Have you…’ he started, but she laid the fleshy tip of her index finger on his lips, shushing him as she did so. And it lingered there a little longer than was decent and he felt himself respond again to her, to the unusually public intimacy of the touch, and the lingering look from her eyes.

‘Let’s go,’ she said quietly.

‘I only just arrived.’

‘I’ve been here too long. Are you telling me you’d rather hang out here?’

James took a final sip of Bourbon and put the half-drunk glass on the counter.

‘Let’s go.’

He turned, letting her lead the way, pulling his jacket forward a little. From here, he took in the full sight of the back of Teresa’s dress, of Teresa’s back, its strength and its tone, the warmth of its color, the sweep of the black V-shape which to him, pointed invitingly down to the base of her spine and beyond. A throng of guests waited for the elevator, and in the corridor, the difference in temperature from the crowded party caused Teresa to shiver briefly. James shrugged off his jacket and put it around her shoulders, holding his distance from her, giving no sign of his desire to pull her into him and keep her warm more directly.

‘Thank you,’ said Teresa, slightly clipped, totally professional, but she caught the scent of him and it was a powerful and visceral reminder of him.

The freezing temperature hit them as they exited the hotel and it took a moment in the milling of people in the street to find her driver. Teresa was glad of James’ jacket over her shoulders as she strode over to the opened door of the SUV and felt a shiver of pleasure that he was here with her. They slid into the back seat and the door was closed firmly shut behind James. The driver picked his way through stop-start New York traffic, with half an eye on his back seat passengers. Teresa looked out of the side window for much of the journey, while the guy he didn’t know simply stared ahead. Clearly they knew each other enough for Teresa to be wearing the guy's jacket around her shoulders but otherwise, there seemed to be a coolness between them that he didn’t fully understand.

‘What happened in Phoenix?’ asked Teresa.

‘There were a couple of delays with some shipments but we’ve worked out a deal that should hold for the foreseeable future.’

‘Delays?’

On the seat, out of view, James felt the touch on the side of his little finger and kept looking forward. He felt it play up and down the side of his finger, before the pressure became a little firmer, curling round the inside and stroking firmly up and down the length of it.

‘A couple of new faces who needed bringing on side.’

‘How long is the foreseeable future?’

‘We’ve sorted something but we need to keep an eye on it. Taza’s got it.’

Business. All business. In the rear view mirror, the driver noticed James turn to look out the side window, chewing his bottom lip slightly nervously. Sensing tension in the clipped conversation, he wondered what sort of trouble this guy was in, that the chivalry of lending a jacket against the cold was not cutting through.

James curled his finger around hers, gripping it tight, stopping the sensitive foreplay that had been going on and swallowed hard. Teresa’s gaze never left the front. They sat in silence for the remainder of the journey.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

James closed the door of Teresa’s suite behind them and walked towards the window, looking out over Manhattan night-time skyline. In the reflection, he saw Teresa approaching him from behind. Her heels made her substantially taller so her arms slid under his and she pulled herself right up close to his back and she just held herself there, tight up against him for a moment, and James placed one hand on hers. Teresa's hands smoothed along his torso, still taut despite his enforced inactivity. But it wasn’t long before her fingers began to play with the gaps between the buttons of his shirt, and first one was deftly slipped undone, followed by a second, then a third, creating enough space for her hand to slide inside and connect with smooth, warm skin. She knew she was close to the most recent scar on his body, the wound that had made this second chance so precious and the healing of which had delayed the coming encounter quite so long. It surprised her that the scarring still felt so different to the rest of his skin.

‘Are you sure this is OK?’ she asked almost in a whisper.

‘Yes, I’m sure.’ His reply was firm.

She withdrew her hand from inside his shirt so that she could turn him round. She looked up into his eyes and saw the longing for her but he understood that she was controlling this and however desperate he was to kiss her, he knew she was going to make him wait. Teresa carefully and deliberately undid his tie. Then she reached for his right hand and unbuttoned the cuff, did the same on the left. All so deliberate and slow, agonizingly slow. He reached behind her, briefly able to make contact with the silky soft skin of her bare back, tracing a path down her spine towards the apex of the V that provocatively pointed the way to the small of her back, and back up again. Teresa returned to the remaining buttons on his shirt, undoing them and pulling the shirt free, sliding her hands around his back and began planting the softest kisses on his body. James breathed out unsteadily, running his fingers through the long, sleek hair while she caressed his body. She kissed her way up his neck, watching as he swallowed the ache for her. She looked up at him, reached up with her hand and pulled him towards her and finally, finally, James had what he’d wanted all night as they kissed ravenously, making up for their two week absence, hell, making up for all the time they’d missed.

They broke the kiss, both desperate for air and panting.

‘I’ve got two questions,’ said James, in between breaths.

‘What?’

‘Which door’s the bedroom?’

Teresa smiled, took his hand and showed him the way but once there, she pushed him against the wall and kissed him again.

‘What's the second question?’ she panted.

‘I’ve been wondering all night…’ he said, still catching his breath.

‘What?’

‘Are you wearing _anything_ underneath that dress?’

Teresa smiled knowingly at him, amused and turned on by the tacit admission of where his thoughts had been this evening.

‘Why don’t you find out?’ she invited seductively. 

James looked into her eyes as he reached behind her and found the zipper. He carefully pulled it down, then pushed the dress down over her shoulders and slid it fluidly down her body. It pooled on the floor and she stepped out from it, flicking it away from her with her still-heeled foot. James’ breathing hitched as he took in the sight of Teresa beautifully naked except for the finest black silk panties which covered her ass, just about, and the exquisite heels. He hadn’t thought he could get any harder.

‘That answer your question?’

‘Yes it does.’

‘Disappointed?’

He shook his head slowly. ‘Never.’

‘Well, it strikes me that you’re rather overdressed now.’

‘Would you like to do something about that?’

‘All in good time.’

She lay her body against his and he was inflamed by the sensation of her hard nipples against his chest. She kissed him again, gently, teasingly, and pushed his shirt down his arms and off. Then she reached for his belt, snaking it undone, and flicked the button open. She eased the zipper down and found what she was looking for, watching his eyes close and his mouth fall open as she closed her hand around his hard cock and achingly slowly worked him up. As turned on as she was, the size and feel of him and the way she was controlling the pace of the seduction made her heart beat faster and she felt her own aching for him intensify. James’s eyes were still closed, his hand running over and through his hair as his breath became shorter.

‘You're gonna have to stop that,’ he managed to stutter. ‘Take your shoes off.’

Teresa smiled at having reduced him to this. She sat on the bed and took her shoes off as James did likewise and stripped the rest of his clothes off. Then he pulled her into him and kissed her, using his right hand to play with her hard, distended nipples before sliding it down over her abdomen and gently but insistently inside the panties he’d glimpsed before. Any doubt he had as to whether she was aroused as he was, was dispelled by silky wetness that covered his fingers as soon as he found her opening. His fingers stroked her teasingly and she lay still, letting the pleasure suffuse her body and her mind. He took his time, more than happy to pleasure her before he slid a finger inside her. Teresa gasped, and moved to meet the intrusion, wanting more, needing so much more of him.

‘James... I need you inside me,’ she implored.

Letting her go, James raised himself up and hooked his fingers around her panties. She raised her hips to let him slide them off her. Discarding them on the floor, he watched as she spread her legs, both of them so ready for this, both physically and emotionally. He took his cock in his hand, wondered how the hell he was going to last any time at all inside her, and moved towards her, pushing gently inside her, just inside her, exhilarated by the feel of her, the tightness of her, nervous and wary of hurting her, but enervated by the wetness he could feel that assured him she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her. She gasped at the combination of how fucking hard he was and how tight she was, and he took his time, gently pushing inside her, watching her as she gradually opened up to take more of him. Still, there was more of him left to take when he lowered his body down and kissed her and then with his tongue deep inside her mouth, she finally took the full length of him deep inside her. James was intoxicated by the feeling of being fully inside her, and by the tightness of her around him, but in that moment, he found himself overwhelmed that this was real; after everything he'd been through, he was joined with her, a part of her, when for so long he'd thought this would never happen again. He broke the kiss, and held still, eyes closed. Teresa’s eyes opened and saw what was happening. She gently placed her hand on his cheek and waited for his eyes to come to hers.

'Tell me...' she whispered softly. 

He hesitated a moment but if he couldn't say it here, now, lying together like this, then when?

'I missed you _so_ much,' he confessed inadequately, unable to put any more words to the intense swelling of a myriad of emotions.

Teresa knew he wasn't talking about the last fortnight. She saw the anguish in his face at unspoken recollection, and recognized the kind of vulnerability that he'd shown her the very first time they'd made love. If she hadn't known before, she knew now that there was more to his absence than he'd yet shared with her, for the emotions to be surfacing at this moment, and she registered that she loved him on a whole new scale compared to their first time round. Time; it would take time and patience and care and love to draw it out of him, and all those things she wanted with all her heart to give him.

'I missed you too, _mi amor,_' she whispered in return, smoothing the back of her hand tenderly along his cheekbone. They kissed gently, no need to rush, letting their tongues delicately play, allowing the physical and emotional connection to intensify and swirl between them. James pulled back and filled her again, gently, taking his time, watching her reaction to judge what felt good for her, very aware that they were still new to this intimacy. Teresa’s eyes closed and her head sank back into the pillow, reveling in his gentle, but long, bewitching, insistent rhythm. Truth be told, reading her reaction, judging what felt good to her was blunting the urgency that would otherwise have overtaken him, and James treasured what has happening here. But Teresa’s finger began to play around her mouth in a way he found deeply erotic and it pushed him up another level. She turned back to him, open-mouthed, taking the harder pressure and pulled him down to her, kissing him hungrily, completely consumed by the intense, swirling, heady mix of love and desire she felt for him. When they let go, they both knew the urgency had picked up, and bringing her to her climax, and feeling it, consumed him. James focused himself on fucking her, bringing her closer, only just keeping himself in control. Teresa knew she wouldn’t last much longer, utterly consumed by the feeling of having him inside her again, completely addicted to the exquisite rhythm of his cock that was bringing her inexorably and relentlessly to climax. She was panting breathily as he fucked her, her head tossing, eyes closed and mouth open.

‘James… I’m going to come, I’m going to come…’

And he fucked her hard, unable to stop himself, brought to this point by the cries coming from her, and took her right over the edge. She cried out as her orgasm ripped through her and feeling her climax pulsing around his cock, it took little more for him to come too, hard, crying out her name and blind to all but the sheer physical ecstasy of intense climax. She lay there, cradling him on top of her, his cock deep inside her, both completely spent, both unable to move bar their heaving chests as they both gasped desperately, trying to get breath back into their lungs.

‘Christ, Teresa…’ breathed James, unable to add anything to the exclamation.

Finally, finally, after what felt like an age, a semblance of control returned to Teresa and she turned to look at him. His eyes were still closed so she gently took his face in her hands, bringing his eyes open to hers, and she kissed him with such gentle tenderness, and couldn’t help but smile with the backwash of physical bliss blending into deep, deep love for him and pure happiness and gratitude for this, for having him back, for having a second chance with him. And she couldn’t not…

“I love you, James,’ she whispered, looking directly into his brown eyes, a radiant smile on her face because this was a joyful thing, not a serious, stern thing.

James heard her words, and saw her face, and let them both soak into his consciousness and into his soul, and finally, he found the energy to nod gently, assuredly.

“I love you too, Teresa,” and he found his smile turning into gentle laughter at the joy of hearing himself say it and of accepting what she’d given him. The intense moments in the middle weren't forgotten, but they'd keep for another time and another place. 

They smiled at each other, kissed each other easily, happily, lightly, repeatedly and finally, they reluctantly began to extricate themselves from each other. James flopped onto his back and at Teresa’s nudging, he raised his arm to let her tuck herself under his arm and into his side. He kissed the top of her head. She raised herself up on her elbow and grinned at him.

‘What?’ he asked, with a questioning half-smile.

“I love you and not just because you can do _that_ to me!”

He summoned the energy to smile lazily.

‘But anytime you want to…’

‘Teresa, if that’s an invitation for another round, I appreciate it, but it’s going to be a while till I’m physically capable of anything…’

She laughed and kissed him playfully, and settled back into his side. And moments later, wrapped tight and tangled in each other, exhausted, satiated sleep claimed them both.


End file.
